Saturday, April 9, 2016

Recovery Mile Marker 14. The Break through


Hi.  I'd like to share week 14 of my recovery from PTSD.  I've been kind of skirting the edges of  this subject these last few posts.  But this post I want to go deep and tell you about my breakthrough. What a HUGE difference between my outlook now and that nearly two years ago.  You  may recall, I was at such a loss making female friends.  Yeah, I had 'girlfriends', you know, the kind you do things with. But why, after a deeply satisfying marriage with an emotionally available man, was I picking emotionally unavailable women to be 'friends' with?  It was clear my Girlfriend Picker was seriously broken.  I wrote about it here: http://www.postwidowhood.blogspot.com/2014/07/fixing-my-girfriend-picker.html 

Last weekend, for my 63rd birthday, I squirreled myself away in a Boston Hotel. Awesome place.  I've returned to celebrate three birthdays there. Look at this incredible view! There is the Tea Party Museum.  It sits mid span off the bridge from Boston to South Boston, with two authentically restored tea ships.  It truly brings history to life, and last weekend it brought my personal history to life, too. 

It's like the weather conspired to keep me room bound.  Rainy and raw on Saturday, snow on Sunday, a minor blizzard predicted all day on Monday.  No way was I driving home as scheduled on Monday, so I booked another night at this delicious spot.  Entertainment outside required too much discomfort, so I decided that what I wanted for this Birthday was to return home with a lighter load.  An emotionally lighter load.  That would come from solving the mystery of my PTSD.  I started on Friday with one word, an obvious one for me: aversion.  So, free of distractions for three days, I turned to face my demons, whatever has been tormenting me my whole life for as long as I remember.

This was my premise: it's known that abused children typically grow up to be abusers of a similar kind, unless they choose differently.  A child adapts to what is normal, as bizarre and hurtful as it is.  A grown-up child merely reproduces what feels 'normal'.  So my premise was that I had only to look at my attitudes, feelings and behavior to see traces of what was done to me.  What feels normal to me is definitely hurtful.  My counselor and I trace my PTSD back to natal and infancy trauma, a non-attachment disorder. For an infant, there can be no explicit memory, because the mind hasn't come online.  But there is plenty of implicit memory.  And unconscious compulsion to repeat the injury.  My counselor has told me that I am stuck in the STARTLE response of PTSD, and until I am able to locate what is panicking me, I'll not resolve the trauma.  All trauma, of course, starts with the startle response.  Picture this.  You're in Boston, happily watching the Marathon.  Then Ka-BOOM!  Your ears are blocked, hearing nothing.  Dust and glass sprinkle through the air around you.  Pain.  You're in STARTLE.  Then, you begin to come online.  You first locate the threat.  Next: orient yourself to the threat.  Next: evaluate the threat.  Next: take action.  Flight!  Fight!  It happens in nanoseconds.  Unless you get stuck, freeze, dissociate.

I was stuck in STARTLE, the bomb going off, going off, going off, going off, going off.  It happened when I was around most, not all, women. 

Aversion.  I own that.  Yeah, I project it onto others, but it's really all my aversion.  Hmmm. With that admission I felt lighter.  With a spring in my step I went out in the rain and explored South Boston.  I continued my inquiry.  Surely I experienced aversion for good reason.  What was my aversion toward?  Me?  I gave shape and words to a possible core belief, as odd as it sounded:  "People are required to feel and express aversion for me if I move and peep."  Hey.  These words made complete sense.  Around my mother, around my infant self.   Then in an experiment, I switched players.  Now it was not my mother I was saying these words to.  Instead I said these words to someone I knew for sure loved me deeply: "You love me because I'm not moving and peeping, and you will feel aversion to me if I move and peep.  You love me only if I do not take up room in your heart."

I said these words, imagining I was looking into the loving eyes of my late husband   BOOM!  Slow motion.  Now I see the bomb's source.  For real.  I can orient myself, I can evaluate, I can act.   The source is a contradiction!!!   I have been living my life in a contradiction "I can only be loved if I do not take up room in your heart."!!!  Hello?!?

That's me on my mother's lap.  Miserable.  Dissociated.

Everything .... became so clear, so simple, so unscary - What my mother was giving me wasn't love at all.    Here was this infant trying to make love out of what was NOT loving, what was begrudging, what was actually an aversion toward my care.  But because a baby is wired for love to survive and make sense out of life, what?   I couldn't make sense out of aversion, so....love must be there, but it can only happen if I'm not here.  But I'm here!  >> Brain freeze. << Good Lord. What I experienced from her wasn't about me  AT ALL.   At this point every cell in my body shifted, relaxing and thawing.

The history of my origin flooded into my mind.  Making perfect sense.  In a 'felt' sense.  Way back when, before I ever showed up, there was a woman, a mother, who hated the choices she had made, and blamed her husband and circumstances, never herself, for them.  She herself was the wounded party.  She faithfully and with an ample dose of martyrdom rendered the duties of a 1940's wife.  Secretly she counted the years until she, what... could turn back the clock and start over?  Reality bore down on her.  Three children, one right after the other, inside a loveless marriage to a man who was emotionally clueless.  She resolved that, despite her frightful loneliness, her children would have wonderful opportunities through education and good grooming.  She could bear it.  Then the unimaginable happened - a pregnancy she never consented to started inside her belly.  She was nearly 40.  THIS invasion was beyond what she could bear.  She lashed out.  She blamed my father.  She drank and smoked throughout her pregnancy.  And I can totally imagine her saying to my father "I will have your baby, but I will never, ever love it and I will never be a mother to it."  And, by all accounts, she was true to her word.  Now, tell me, wouldn't you develop an aversion to a mother like that?  And of course, not being able to repel her because your life depended on her, you'd tie yourself up in knots?

I did.  Now I feel liberated from this impossible contradiction. 

The way I described it to my trauma counselor: "It's like the caboose on my train, the caboose that was holding all my pain, got unhitched.  I see it receding in the distance. With no power, it's slowing, fading as my train powers on with its much lighter load."  

Lifelong anxiety, anguish, fear, panic -  vanished! 

In trauma recovery it's called uncoupling.  In therapy it's called a breakthrough.  That was one terrific Birthday present.

Thanks for listening.  Hugs to all!

23 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

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    1. (Deleted above for spelling errors.)

      Happy birthday! I'm glad you were able to spent the weekend in a way that meant a lot to you. If you finally shed your lifelong anxieties and fears, etc. that's really huge! Congratulations!

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    2. Thanks for the Birthday wishes! (I'm 63 going on 36 ;-)

      I've been out amongst women a couple times this week. Different experience than before! I can tell I still put up a veil between us - an echo of my lifelong neural wiring. My task to not feed that. Been practicing a new path - sincerity and transparency - a long time here. Gosh...It used to take all the courage I could muster to hit 'publish' on my revealing posts. I am still pleasantly surprised when you all are supportive of me instead of begrudging. It's given me faith in our own gender!

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    3. I had a great childhood so I can't identify with that part of your posts but when it comes to holding back around other people I do connect (big time) with your struggle to find a path of sincerity and transparency. The lack of belonging to an organized church and hiding it being the source of my issues. When I blog about it I need that courage you talk about so I know what you mean in your comment above. It's freeing to be able to write in the full spectrum of our lives.

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    4. Full spectrum living - I love it! You write with such regularity and wit that I've underestimated the courage required to share your individuality. Kudos for taking the path less traveled amongst your neighbors. I myself haven't belonged to an organized church in twenty years. I feel more genuine with a broader context.

      Full spectrum living...I like that...

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  2. Happy Birthday. Ever so happy you were able to give yourself this gift. That picture truely does speak; proper, sterile, and cold. Thank God that we can never stop growing, learning, and becoming more. All my love to you, Deborah

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  3. Deborah, hugs back to you! Thank you for your impression of the picture. I recently looked through all my childhood pictures and found affection lacking in all of them! Today, no one in my family is perpetuating that proper, sterile, cold legacy. Awesome how we grow, through challenge and through sheer delight.

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  4. Happy Birthday! I am so happy to hear you had a breakthrough! I am visiting through Tuesday at Ten, and so glad I stopped by. I look at that picture and see children scared to move, and a very stern look on the mothers face. I even sense the grandmother might be a little intimidated by her daughter? I look forward to reading more of your posts. Hugs, love, and prayers to you!

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    1. RCraig418, So glad you paid a visit. I look forward to getting more acquainted! Very perceptive interpretation of the photo, and so helpful. Thank you for your hugs. Here's one for you :-)

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  5. Flo, what a powerful life story. Thank you for being brave to share such heartbreak for a child and your growth in understanding. The photo of your family tells all. I am glad also that you have found a counselor who has given you the tools to help you.

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  6. Martha, I am so touched by your comment. Hugs, Flo

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  7. I just noticed the "former widow" in your side bar. That is so cool!

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    1. Funny you should mention this. His sadiversary passed without my awareness this year! In fact, it was the day I wrote this post.

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  8. AHA!!! The very reason I have had problems with men. I felt that if I kept quiet, was also "nice" and happy, they would like me. Because that's what my Daddy wanted from me. If I was a nice little girl, he wouldn't get mad and yell at me or hit me. Then, if a man acted mean toward me---it must be my fault, right? Thank God for Fred. He took all that away because he loved me just the way I was. Now--can you ever forgive your Mother. Can you see why she felt and acted like she did? It wasn't anything about you--if you had been a boy, she would have been the same way. She thought she was on her way to more time for herself and DAMN!! Here comes another kid! BTW--if you can drive in Boston traffic...I don't see how ANYTHING else would ever panic you!!! That city is one scary place!!

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    1. LOL I totally agree with you about Boston traffic. I made one wrong turn close to the hotel and it took me nearly an hour to find my way back, during rush hour by that time.

      Thank God for Fred. My heart melts realizing the gifts God gives us. Sure confuses a child when the parent, who's supposed to care, yells and hits you instead.

      Uncoupling that caboose is a first step of a heartfelt forgiveness. You give me an idea - every day, sweep up the debris that that grudge left behind, and fling it into that uncoupled caboose. hm...I have no idea where that caboose even IS. Probably cleared off the track by now. So I'll plop my bag of leftovers into God's hands and let God dispense of it.

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  9. I'm crying. What a horrible awful terrible thing to happen to a BABY. Oh. My. God. I don't know how you are this strong. I'm not sure I could do all this hard work.

    I love Boston (but not the weather) and I'm glad you unhitched your caboose there. Thank you for writing.

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  10. Hi, dear AW. In some sense I'm embarrassed about it, like I'm playing catch-up with all 'normal folks' and I so dearly want to be included, even if I am behind. Fact is, I AM included. Thanks for caring. Hugs

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    1. What a LOT of work to just feel normal. Bravo!

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    2. Makes me wonder how many people have had bad experiences that hid the key to unlock a 'normal' life. Sure is worth the effort!

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  11. Oh, now this post gives me a lot to think about; along with the one about walking on "eggshells". Did the same with my mother over 45 years. She hugged me once when my oldest brother passed away in 1998. Other than that, nope. I have some pictures from childhood that she had made to send our dad when he was overseas. While we didn't look unhappy; I see no love on her face. Thank you for this; I may have to look into more writing about our family dynamics. We all have a "story" don't we. xoxo

    I'm very glad you had a good birthday!

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  12. Hi Sally! I would love to hear your story. It's like a treasure hunt, if the writer looks candidly.

    Looking back on this post from where I am now, 3 months later, I am grateful this birthday insight has been my gateway to greater peace and love. What greater gift... :-)

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